


said i wasn't gonna lose my head

by 40millionyears



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dialogue-Only, F/M, Fake Marriage, The tropiest trope that ever did trope, Undercover as Married, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/40millionyears/pseuds/40millionyears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five scenes from a fake marriage (+ one from a real one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	said i wasn't gonna lose my head

**Author's Note:**

> a fic where everything's made up and the timeline doesn't matter (set at some vague point in season one, I guess).

**i. a twist of fate makes life worthwhile**  
  
" _Undercover?_ With all due respect, Captain, this is insane. There is no way Peralta and I would make a convincing married couple."  
  
"Captain, I think what Amy's really trying to say is that she's afraid that in that scenario, she won't be able to keep her hands off me. In fact, I'd like to propose Undercover Lovers Rule Number 1: Santiago is not allowed to fall in love with me, no matter how charmingly irresistible I am as a fake husband."  
  
"Sir, I would like to counter with the proposition that when I murder Peralta, it's automatically ruled justified."  
  
"Oh, I think we both know it'd be a crime of passion. Speaking of passion—"  
  
"It's illegal to marry a twelve year old, Captain. Even one trapped in a 30-something body."  
  
"I knew you were thinking about my body."  
  
"Thinking about the best way to dispose of it."  
  
"Amy, that hurts. Lately I'm feeling like I'm just not enough for you anymore. What do you even want out of this relationship?"  
  
"Captain—!"  
  
  
**ii. these precious moments, we have so few**  
  
"I call the left side of the bed!"  
  
"In a world where the left side is the couch downstairs, you got it."  
  
"Amy, darling, we talked about this. How are we going to work through our intimacy issues if you won't let me in?"  
  
"Oh, I can give you intimacy issues."  
  
"I should let you know, the way you're saying everything through gritted teeth just makes you all the more attractive to me."  
  
"Can we just go over our cover stories again?"  
  
"Ugh, fine. I am Jason Pittman, millionaire genius playboy philanthropist. You are Alisa Serrano. You were my personal chef, until I swept you off your feet and did things to you in the kitchen that your strict adherence to the health code just could not abide. We were married in secret on my private island -  _our_ private island now, dear - after a torrid and passionate affair, because your family did not approve."  
  
"Literally none of that is what we agreed on."  
  
"And now we live in this gigantic suburban dream house, which is far too much for just the two of us even with my extravagant tastes, and that means we've gotta be doing it like rabbits to try to fill the place."  
  
"... yep. You're definitely sleeping on the couch."  
  
  
  
**iii. something in the way you move**  
  
"Please act normal this time, okay?"  
  
"Santiago, I don't know what you're talking about. All I did was tell them that we hooked up at a UFO convention and it's been nothing but happiness and paranormal sightings since. That's way more normal than those weirdos who met wearing Lycra.  _Lycra,_ Amy. That's just giving everything away straight up."  
  
"It was a yoga class."  
  
"I stand by my phrase."  
  
"And maybe you could stop showing everyone we meet that creepy comfit you had the sketch artist do of what our baby would look like?"  
  
"We have to be  _convincing. A_ nd Jason Jr is adorable _,_ thank you very much. He inherited my best features. So, like, all of them."  
  
"Just try to be... well... not so  _you_ when you talk to the neighbours. We need them to like us."  
  
"That mangled attempt at a pot roast that you forced on the guys next door probably didn't help with that."  
  
"You know, sometimes when my mother asks me what I see in you, I just don't know what to tell her."

  
  
**iv. just can't let you go**  
  
"This is exhausting. How many dinner parties can one street possibly hold? Tell me there's not something suspicious about people with this much free time."  
  
"Well, one of them's a murderer, so... yes."  
  
"I'm starting to wish they'd hurry up and murder again so we'd at least have something to do besides make small talk. That's bad, right?"  
  
"At least there's food. My stakeout bag doesn't really go with this outfit and I can only fit so many peanuts in my pockets."   
  
"Please tell me you didn— you did. Jake!"  
  
"You know I get snacky!"  
  
"We're getting nowhere. Everyone's too busy criticising the cheese board behind the Gundersons' backs to do anything scandalous. Not that they're wrong. I mean, pepper jelly next to the Monforte Toscano? The Captain would be appalled. I can hear him now. "Santiago, I am appalled." "  
  
"Okay, _Boyle_ , you stay here and keep an eye on who's leaving, and with  _whom_. Maybe we'll catch a break and see something we're not meant to. I'm gonna make one more sweep, see if the wine has loosened any tongues."  
  
"Could you maybe sweep by those little crab puffs, if there's any left?"  
  
"If my wife requests crab puffs, then by god I will return with crab puffs."  
  
"I knew there was a reason I married you."  
  
  
  
**v. i wasn't gonna fall in love again**  
  
"Another successful undercover operation—"  
  
"It was our first."  
  
"— mostly thanks to me, of course."  
  
"You accidentally caught Roger Gunderson dragging the body to his car while you were trying to stuff our excess trash in his garbage bin."  
  
"Still counts."  
  
"Whatever you say, Pineapples."  
  
"Admit it. Being Mrs Pittman this week wasn't the worst."  
  
"Okay, it wasn't all bad. It was actually kinda fun."  
  
"Not all bad, actually kinda fun. Title of your— ow, don't hit me, I was  _going_  to say campaign slogan. Okay, no, I was gonna say sex tape."   
  
"So we're done with that nice moment we were just having, then."  
  
"One nice moment is all you get with me. But you never know, we were so good at this - and by we I of course mean me - we might become the go-to team for infiltrating the upper middle class. I didn't learn how to pronounce _gremolada_ for nothing."  
  
"I guess I could have you as my fake husband again. If I had to."

  
**+**  
 **(a little way down the road)**  
 **vi. my destiny's with you**  
  
"I think I actually have to credit our success at this one to both of us equally."  
  
"I'm so flattered."  
  
"Can I say, real marriage? Surprisingly much less complicated than fake marriage."  
  
"It is easier not have to elaborately lie about who we are, or our jobs, or how we met, or the fact that we weren't actually together at the time..."  
  
"And we got presents for this one, and your head didn't look so awkwardly Photoshopped-on in our wedding photos. But on the other hand... bills, and whatnot. And I have to buy vegetables now. For eating. Because health."  
  
"Yes, Peralta, despite my better instincts I'd kind of like to keep you around for a while."  
  
"You're a very intelligent woman, Mrs Peralta. Happy anniversary. "  
 

**Author's Note:**

> if you’ve never experienced the musical treat that is “pop! goes my heart”, after which this fic and its subtitles were named, you haven't lived.
> 
> I have been rather un-jazzed about b99 for the last season and a half or so, so this is an attempt to break my writing drought.


End file.
